The Reconciliation of Arthur & Guinevere
by taurusrose
Summary: Summary: Arthur considers the past. Author's Notes: Ever wonder how Arthur came to the conclusion that it didn't matter what had happened between Gwen & Lancelot? This vignette answers that question. I do use some scripted dialogue but consider it fair use. Reader comments are welcome. Enjoy!


The Reconciliation of

Arthur & Guinevere

Merlin and Guinevere returned to the council chamber to find that the fighting was over and the room was much too quiet. They were brought up short by the sight of Tristan holding a mortally wounded Isolde in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

"Shhh."

"Our dreams…"

"Isolde, don't."

Arthur leaned against the wall, his expression sorrowful as he watched the lovers try to say as much as they could in the little time they had left.

"I wish…"

"I wish, too."

"Hold me." Isolde's last breath left her body in a soft sigh. Tristan cradled Isolde's face in his hand, kissed her, then held her limp body against him and wept.

Arthur swallowed hard, trying to move the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. But for the grace of God, he could have been in Tristan's place this very moment holding Guinevere in his arms. Arthur had no idea how close they had come to that this day, but the thought frightened him more than anything he could imagine and his gaze went immediately to her face.

Isolde had saved his life and in the process had given up her own. Had she not, Guinevere would be weeping over his body now, never knowing how much he truly loved her. A shiver ran down Arthur's spine when he realized how close he'd come to leaving this world without being able to undo the hurtful things he'd said to her. Looking at Guinevere now, and realizing how this day could have ended for them, he finally let go of the image of her in Lancelot's arms. It no longer mattered. They had survived another battle _together _and he loved her with all of his heart. He had always loved her. He could not imagine a world without Guinevere in it.

Guinevere met Arthur's gaze and her expression mirrored his. _It could have been us_, she thought and tears welled in her eyes. Life was so precious, so unpredictable and much too short; she couldn't imagine a world without Arthur in it. She loved him with every part of her being, she always had. Looking at Arthur now and seeing the anguish in his eyes, she didn't know what the future held for them, but if Arthur did not feel the same, she didn't know where she would go or what she would do.

With their leaders dead or missing and the people—alongside the knights—fighting furiously to retake their kingdom, Helios's army fled the citadel, then the city. The men of Camelot, led by King Arthur, gave chase, beating the Southrons back across the border. The taste of victory strong in their mouths, the warriors of Camelot cheered boisterously and hailed their king. The march back to the city was far less urgent, it took them two days to make the trip, but it gave the king time to reflect.

Nonetheless, the somber cloud that had hung over Arthur for months was finally gone. He could have given credit to his frame of mind and lightness of heart to the fact that he'd successfully reclaimed his throne, his crown and his kingdom, and in truth these things did play a part. But the lion's share of credit for the king's high spirits went to the dark-haired, brown-eyed woman he'd left in Camelot. Riding ahead of the others, Arthur had to admit that even though things between himself and Guinevere were still in a strange place; his heart was lighter than it had been in months. The woman he loved with every ounce of his being was back in his orbit and, despite what he'd said out of pride and in the heat of anger, he was never going to let her go again.

Meanwhile, back in the city, people began putting their lives back in order; the dead were buried and the long process of clean-up and rebuilding had begun. Though she had been disgraced and banished on pain of death by the king, Guinevere was welcomed back by the castle servants and the townspeople with open arms. Guinevere had always been respected and well-liked by the common people, most could not believe that "their Gwen" had committed adultery on the eve of her wedding, and held firmly to the belief that there had been some plot against the serving girl by those loathed to see her crowned queen. The few detractors who were not pleased to see Guinevere back in the castle didn't dare harass her or question her presence because she'd been seen at the king's side during the heat of battle. Who were they to question or complain, if the man who had passed judgment on her in the first place hadn't objected to her return?

Guinevere had never shied away from hard work or lending a hand when needed and now was no different. She looked around the castle, rolled up her sleeves, and took action wherever she saw a need. Gwen helped Gaius tend to the injured and visited the lower town, making herself useful in a variety of ways. She comforted women, brought food to families without, helped clear away rubble, listened to concerns and complaints, played with children, and hugged anyone who needed one. Guinevere was happy to be back in Camelot, after all, it was her home and she had missed it and her friends. She almost felt happy, but someone was still missing; yet, Guinevere did not want to think about what his return might mean for her.

On the first night after the victory, after the men had begun drifting off to sleep and Arthur lay looking up at the night sky, he thought of what he would say when he set eyes on Guinevere again. He had spent most of the day thinking about the last nine months and the last thing Guinevere said to him played over and over in his mind: _"I never stopped loving you. Not once." _

Why could he believe her now when he did not before? What had changed?

Thinking back on what he now referred to as "the unfortunate incident," he realized that betrayal and deceit were not part of Guinevere's character. She had never lied to him or played games with him. Why would she start _after _he had asked her to be his wife? He remembered their final meeting. She had been broken when she stood before him; her face was streaked with tears and still she wept in shame, disbelief and confusion. She didn't know why she'd been drawn to Lancelot, when _he_ meant everything to her, only that she'd been overwhelmed and it had been beyond her control. Now Arthur could ask the million dollar question. _Had she been enchanted? _ Why hadn't this thought occurred to him before? It wasn't as if enchantments were unheard of in the kingdom; he himself had fallen victim to magic once or twice. He remembered every word she had uttered, every sorrowful expression on her face, and yes, the tears she had cried.

An anguished, ragged sigh escaped him. Now that he saw Agravaine for the viper he'd been, Arthur saw clearly how often he had been duped by his uncle. It was on Agravaine's counsel that he'd broken with Guinevere, albeit briefly, and passed judgment on her while he was still hurting and angry after discovering Guinevere with Lancelot. And how had he walked in on that?

Oh, yes.

Agravaine had roused him from his bed, saying there was something he had to see. There was no way Agravaine could have known, much less suspected Guinevere of any wrongdoing unless he had been part of it. A sharp pain shot through Arthur's heart. He should have trusted her, _believed_ in her, when she said: "You mean everything to me. I was drawn to him. I couldn't stop myself. _I don't know why!_"

"Oh, Guinevere," he said softly.

Knowing now that Agravaine had been Morgana's creature, and what she was capable of, allowed Arthur to finally see the big picture. He'd known of his half-sister's animosity for quite some time now, but he never thought that her ill-will extended to Guinevere—who had once been her dearest friend—as well. Morgana had powerful magic and she was filled with hate; it was completely within her scope to bewitch Guinevere to hurt them both.

Arthur tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable under the onslaught of his thoughts. As for Lancelot; well, Arthur hadn't seen him walk through the veil, but he had no reason to doubt Merlin who had. It wasn't possible for Lancelot to survive that, and yet he had appeared in Camelot—at just the right time—and spun a convincing story of his ordeal. Or had he? Had Morgana been responsible for Lancelot's reappearance?

The king bunched his blanket up beneath his head and frowned at the night sky. Yes, magic existed in his world, but this all seemed so…so _impossible, _even for Morgana. He wanted Guinevere back with him, but did he want it so badly that he would concoct any story to have her? Was he willing to say anything so that their reunion would go over better with his counselors and court?

Long ago, Arthur had decided that he would make his own rules when it came to who he loved and who he would marry. Yes, he was king, but his relationship with Guinevere was not about state business, it was personal and always had been. If he could forget the past, he dared anyone to challenge or deny him.

The next morning dawned clear and bright. The company started out on the last leg of the journey home and Merlin drew his horse alongside Arthur's. He gave the king a sidelong glance and asked, "What happens now?"

Arthur didn't have to ask what he meant. Merlin had always been keenly aware of Arthur and Gwen's love, and being Arthur's servant had never hindered him when he had something to say on the matter. Still, Arthur didn't really want to have this conversation with Merlin.

"I don't know what you mean."

Merlin grinned. "You. Gwen. What happens now? You love her, Arthur. You know you do, and she's proven her love for you and Camelot time and again, no matter what's happened in the past."

Arthur did not answer; he merely lay spurs to his mount and dashed ahead of Merlin, leaving the young warlock staring after him with his mouth wide open.

Guinevere made her way to the king's chambers to see what needed to be done. The room was a mess; furniture overturned, tapestries ripped down and clothes strewn everywhere. She set an overturned chair upright just as Arthur entered.

Guinevere smiled at him. "It will take some time."

"Well, Merlin can take care of it," Arthur said lightly, smiling in return.

Guinevere took a step toward him then stopped, her smile faded as she brought up the two-ton gorilla in the room.

"If you want me to go, to return to Ealdor…"

"I want you to stay," Arthur said, closing the distance between them. "Guinevere."

"You don't have to say anything."

"Whatever's happened between us—"

She could not bear his anger again. "Please, Arthur, I can't forgive myself."

"I don't care," Arthur declared. He stood before her and looked directly into her eyes. "I just don't ever want to lose you."

A tentative smile flirted with Guinevere's lips. Arthur regarded her for a moment, then took her hands in his. Standing before her, gazing into the warmth of her eyes, he was not a king; he was just a man, one who loved this woman beyond reason. He spoke without hesitation or doubt.

"Will you marry me?"

Now Guinevere's smile lit up her face and her heart danced with indescribable joy. "Yes!"

Arthur smiled.

"Yes, with all my heart!"

They were in each other's arms within a heartbeat and their lips met in a kiss that was richer and deeper than any they'd shared before.

They had waited long enough. Arthur married Guinevere two days later and the entire kingdom celebrated the king's marriage. At last the king had married the queen of his heart and the celebrations lasted far into the night. No one was happier about this long awaited union than Merlin. Guinevere was beautiful in a simple white gown trimmed with silver thread; a finely woven veil of silk covered her dark curly hair and was held in place by a thin circle of gold. Arthur was dressed in his chain mail, Excalibur hung from his belt; the glorious red cloak bearing the Pendragon crest was draped across his shoulders and he wore the crown proudly and with ease. His smile was soft and easy as he gazed at his bride; his eyes were full of love for Guinevere.

She was excited, nervous, happy, and a little stunned—hardly able to believe that at long last, after everything they had gone through—she was finally marrying her beloved Arthur. She kept her eyes fixed on him as she walked down the aisle. Her smile was sweet and filled with promise when she joined him and put her hands in his.

"My lords, ladies and gentlemen of Camelot," Geoffrey said solemnly, "we are gathered here today to celebrate the ancient rite of hand-fasting, the union of Arthur Pendragon and Guinevere of Camelot."

Geoffrey looked at the king and asked, "Is it your wish, Arthur, to become one with this woman?"

Arthur gazed into Guinevere's eyes, and lost himself in the love he saw there. His voice was clear and steady as he replied, "It is."

Geoffrey turned to the bride. "Is it your wish, Guinevere, to become one with this man?"

Guinevere held Arthur's gaze. "It is," she said.

"Do any say nay?" Geoffrey asked.

The court was in complete agreement with this match.

Geoffrey held a garland of flowers and said, "With this garland, I do tie a knot, and by doing so, bind your hands and your hearts for all eternity." Geoffrey wrapped the garland around the joined hands of Arthur and his bride and tied the knot. "I pronounce you to be husband and wife."

Arthur and Guinevere shared their first kiss as a married couple and the court erupted in applause.

The wedding feast was a festive affair with dancing and singing. Guinevere and Arthur had eyes only for each other; they dined from the same plate, feeding each other the choicest morsels and laughed quietly together. Merlin thought it wonderful that they could finally celebrate their love openly and that Guinevere was finally being accorded the honor and respect due her.

The festivities were still going on when the bride and groom retired to the marriage bed. Guinevere was taken to her chamber by serving girls she'd known for years; they helped her change into a long flowing gown that hinted at the beauty beneath. They brushed her hair, perfumed her skin and finally, she was left alone to await her new husband. She did not have to wait long. A soft tap at the door announced the king, a moment later he was standing before her, drinking in her loveliness. Arthur wore dark sleeping pants and a loose white shirt of fine linen; a long dark robe was thrown carelessly over his shoulders.

He greeted Guinevere with a tender kiss and held her in his arms.

"I love you," he said. "It seems like I have waited all my life for this moment and you."

"Oh, Arthur," Guinevere sighed against his neck. "I love you with all my heart. I always have. You mean everything to me."

She leaned back, tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes. His eyes were dark with love and desire. She raised her lips to his again, and he claimed them hungrily.

Arthur picked Guinevere up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Their union was unhurried and amazingly patient as they explored each other, savoring every caress, every touch, and every kiss. Their passion built slowly, yet steadily until neither one could bear the yearning any longer. Guinevere instinctively arched her back and yielded to receive her husband. Arthur reined in the urgency he felt and proceeded slowly until her feminine membrane gave way to let him possess her completely. Guinevere gasped at the sharp pain, but recovered quickly. She wrapped herself around him and Arthur's entire being was aflame with sensation; their worlds shattered at the same moment. When the storm had passed, Arthur cradled her against his chest and brushed her hair back from her face. He kissed her tenderly.

"I love you so much it hurts," he whispered in her ear.

"And I you," she murmured sleepily.

A few days later, councilmen, knights and members of the court assembled in the throne room for Guinevere's coronation. Trumpets sounded and guards opened the doors for Guinevere Pendragon. She walked gracefully down the aisle between knights and courtiers dressed in a rich purple and gold gown. Two thrones waited at the end of the room and the king stood before them. Guinevere made her way to Arthur and knelt before him.

He smiled down at her before taking an elaborate, yet totally feminine crown carefully from a cushion presented to him by an official.

"By the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you Guinevere, Queen of Camelot."

Arthur placed the crown on her head and she smiled up at him as he held his hands out to her. Guinevere placed her hands in his and rose to her feet. She joined Arthur on the dais and he bent his head toward her; she met him and they shared a kiss. The royal couple parted after a few precious moments and Arthur presented his queen to the people.

"Long live the Queen!" Arthur exclaimed.

And throne room exploded in raised voices crying, "Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!"


End file.
